The Very Reverend Jack Sparrow
by scratchycat
Summary: Have you ever wondered just why Jack impersonated a cleric of the Church of England; and why he remembers it so fondly? UPDATED: Chap 12: A Plan for the Pearl... Please R&R!
1. Rum, glorious rum

AN: I own none of these characters...though I wish I did own Jack. Sorry this chapter is so short, it's an introductory chapter.  
  
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Jack was bored. He was stuck inside the gaol of Port Royale, with absolutely no entertainment, and barely any possibility of it before the gallows tomorrow morning. And no rum! He picked up a stone from the floor of the cell, threw it back down and sighed. Leaning his head back against the clammy wall, he tried shutting his eyes and thinking of the sea. Breathing deeply, he could (if he ignored the vaguely urinal smell of the Port Royale cells) smell the sea air come wafting in the windows and hear the cries of the gulls as they settled down for the night. No - that was more depressing than with his eyes open. He picked up the stone again, and a key scraped in the lock.  
  
"Ah! Entertainment!" Jack said with a smile.  
  
The guard said, "Stay in there, an' think on yer sins fur tomorrer! The both of yeh!"   
  
A girl was thrown into the cell and landed on her hands and knees, scraping them on the stone. She instantly turned around, and with fire flashing in her dark eyes, took a pause and then spat directly onto the face of the fat gaoler, who gave her a dirty look and stomped off, wiping his face on his sleeve.  
  
"You shouldn't have done that, you know," Jack said cheerfully (a girl!) "Because now he's never going to want to give you clemency 'fore the hanging tomorrow."  
  
"Why should I care?" said the girl, defiantly, tying back her long black hair with a bit of string. "I've probably just made his face the cleanest it will ever be."  
  
Jack laughed, and clambered up from his sitting position. He stuck out a hand and said, "I'm Jack Sparrow - Captain Jack Sparrow."  
  
The girl shook his hand and replied with a smile "Am I to call you Cap'n Jack?"  
  
"Naw, Jack'll do just fine for me friends...and what can I call you?"  
  
"Me?" the girl said. "I'm Annamaria."   
  
"And what are you in here for? The cells aren't usually graced by women, nor the gallows -"  
  
"I'm a thief," she interrupted, "A bit of a hardened one actually, so the authorities are getting rid of me."  
  
Jack smiled, in a flash of white and gold teeth. "And I'm a pirate, so no worries there. I think we're going to get along fine."  
  
"Jack? Have you ever heard of the expression 'better to be hung for a sheep as for a lamb'?" Annamaria said with a wicked glint in her eye, as she felt in her skirts for something.  
  
Jack stepped closer to her and said "I may 'ave heard of that expression, yes."  
  
Suddenly a full bottle of rum materialised before his eyes, and beyond that, he met Annamaria's laughing eyes.  
  
"How did you...I mean, RUM? How -" Jack sputtered, his head following the movements of the bottle as the girl waved it back and forth in front of his eyes.  
  
"Once a thief, always a thief, I reckon." Annamaria said. "I picked it up off the bloody gaoler's table as I sauntered past!"  
  
Jack gathered her and the bottle into a giant bear hug, and as he looked fondly at the bottle, and around the damp cold cell, he thanked God for some entertainment at last.  
  
"I think, Annamaria, you and I are going to get along extremely well." 


	2. Might as well bloody BE a priest!

AN: Thanks for the reviews, guys! I'll try to make this chapter longer...  
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"Yo ho ho! A pirate's life for me!" Jack said loudly, uncorking the rum.  
"Shhhh!" Annamaria muttered. "The old git will hear us, and then it'll be taken away."  
"What?" Jack said, "Oh - no, he won't. I've been in here several days, and he won't come down here after sundown - he'll stay upstairs with the serving lass from the Pike Arms. You can hear 'em laughing, listen." He looked at Annamaria's repulsed face. "Yeah, I think it's revolting too, luv. Fancy that old git getting some. You have to shout to get his attention if you want him down here - and let's face it, who'd want to see that ugly mug after the first time?"  
Annamaria grabbed the bottle and took a gulp. Jack followed suit, and it was all he could do not to screw up his face - the rum tasted like it was about 100 proof. Still, it was rum, and after the first few gulps it'd warm you up...Annamaria, he noted, could barely swallow it either.   
"This is disGUSTing!" she gasped. She took the bottle and looked quizzically at it. "If I wasn't so cold and scared, I'd be using this for naught but cleaning fluid. Remind me not to steal that brand again."  
A few shots later, Jack spoke. "You scared, luv? Don't be."   
"I'm terrified," Annamaria replied, "since it's not every day you get hanged."  
"Well, it's not going to be tomorrow when we're hanged. You and I have got a bloody sight more pillaging and thieving in us yet, and as soon as I come up with a plan, we're out of here."  
They shared the bottle a little more. Annamaria got up from the wall they were sitting against, and wandered over to the other side of the cell. Grasping the rusty iron grating, she pulled herself up to look out the window at the bay and its black, rippling sea. Finally, her upper arm strength giving out, she dropped down from the grating and leant her head against the wall. Walking back over to Jack - tipsily, she noticed - she bent over and took the bottle out of his hand to have a swig.   
"Bleargh. Horrible."  
Jack watched her weaving around the cell. "What's out there? Anything different?"  
"Freedom." Annamaria said glumly. "And better rum. Have you -"  
"I haven't got a plan yet!"  
She came back over and sat down clumsily next to Jack. "I'm cold...and drunk."  
Jack was a little that way himself, and said "I'm drunk too...but I'm not cold, so come and warm yourself up on me." He pulled her closer to him and kept trying to think of a plan, but other thoughts intruded. He liked this spitfire of a girl. Liked her a lot. Even if they were to be hanged tomorrow, perhaps they could have some more fun first...Jack sighed as a faint little snore came from Annamaria, and wondered whether his arm would start to go numb within the first minute, or if it would take a little longer. From across the water, the church bell rang for midnight. That is, Jack assumed it would be midnight, he didn't really know when or why the bells rang when they did. They sounded almost ghostly, coming in through the window from over the other side of the bay...Jack had heard tales of mariners sailing over ghostly cities and going mad from hearing the church bells toll. As Annamaria gave another little snore, and turned over while completely squashing Jack's hand in the process - it was numb, now - he thought that he might as well be a priest in one of those submerged cities: he seemed to be celibate enough.   
A priest...now that's an interesting idea...and he was sober again.   
"Annamaria!" he said, softly at first. "Annamaria, wake up, luv. I may 'ave thought of a plan that'll get us out of here."  
She muttered in her sleep, and rolled off Jack's hand. Oh, thank God, he thought, smiling in the darkness and massaging his hand. However, she didn't appear to be waking up, so drastic measures were called for..."OY!"  
"What...? Don't hit me, please don't hurt me...I did what you asked -" Annamaria sat up, disoriented. Her face cleared when she remembered where she was, and she quickly pulled her dress up to cover her shoulder when she saw Jack bemusedly looking at her.  
"Who hits you, luv?" Jack asked, quietly.  
"Oh - nobody - bad dream," she said quickly, "...So what's your plan?"  
Jack grinned in the dark cell. "I may have just seen the light...converted...got a touch religious, you might say. And I think you might've, too. And that gaoler doesn't get out of bed and come down here until it's time to take the prisoners to the hanging, so we might even get a few hours head start. But we've got to attract his attention now."   
Annamaria smiled back as Jack began to explain his plan. 


	3. Father, forgive us

AN: Thanks for the sweet reviews guys...  
  
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"Oy!" Jack shouted, wrapping his hands over the bars of the cell and pushing his head as close as possible to the door. "GAOLER!"  
  
Annamaria followed suit. "Hello! Gaoler! We need to speak to you!"  
  
Jack rattled the iron lattice and kept shouting, rolling his eyes at Annamaria as he did so. Minutes passed while they both tried vainly to attract the turnkey's attention. Finally they heard the unmistakeable sounds of someone stirring upstairs, and then a succession of sounds as the gaoler made his heavy, clunking, grunting journey down the stairs into the dank cells. He stomped over to the cell and Annamaria noticed in horror that his fly was unbuttoned. Oh God, she told herself, don't look below shoulder level. Don't look below shoulder level...  
  
"Whaddayawantinthenameofbloodyhell!" he snarled. Jack even took an unintentional step back to avoid the lethal spray that splattered over the bars.   
  
"We want to see the chaplain, savvy? I don't want to die without...you know, talkin' to him or whatever he was down here offering a couple of nights ago. Eternal paradise," Jack continued with his best ingratiating smile, "and other such things."  
  
The gaoler raised himself up and cleared his throat. "Why should I get the minister for yer if you didn' want 'im when 'e came?" Both Jack and Annamaria stepped back, anticipating what was to come. But the well-directed missile hit Jack full in the cheek.   
  
"That's a very interesting thing you just did, gaoler, which will assure you of - " Annamaria cut Jack off mid-threat. She smiled nervously at the man, and said firmly: "And we forgive those who trespass against us. We repent, and are sorry for all our sins. I want to talk with the chaplain before I die."  
  
The gaoler stopped in mid bluster. Looking at Annamaria with a new kind of respect, he stomped off, muttering to himself about the "bloody fickle prisoners changin' their mind every three seconds". Stopping at the top of the stairs, he shouted down, "I'll GET yer the bloody priest then I'm goin' back to bed!", followed by a few more (thankfully) unintelligible words, and they could then hear him clumping off.   
  
"AND your fly's undone!" Jack bellowed after him, and then turned to Annamaria, who giggled. "You noticed too, didn't you...he won't be back until it's time to take us to the gallows. That'll give us a few hours head start." He paused, and then asked, "Where did you pick up all that religious lingo, luv? Did you steal the Book of Common Prayer in your thieving ways?"  
  
Annamaria laughed. "No - before I was a thief...before I was - liberated - I was brought up in an orphanage. The mistress was very interested in the religious education of her charges. About the only thing she took an interest in, actually, but that should come in quite useful for us."  
  
They waited for a few moments in silence. "We're going to need something that'll take the chaplain's attention away from me for a few moments luv. Can you think of anything that'll provide a distraction?" Jack said, looking up the passage.   
  
As he turned around he saw Annamaria swaying on the spot, and beginning to fall. She had fainted. Jack took a quick couple of steps towards her and caught her just as she nearly hit the ground. He was concerned, and stroked her cheek gently. He didn't want to have to leave her behind in the escape. He whispered her name and got a shock when her eyes opened suddenly.  
  
"Something like this?" she whispered back, and grinned wickedly. Jack helped her up, chuckling ruefully at himself for being taken in.  
  
"That'll do perfectly, darlin'...you had me fooled."   
  
They waited a few moments in silence. Then the chaplain came slowly down the stairs, almost tripping over his cassock as he tried to gain purchase on the slippery, mildewy steps. He was almost a complete opposite to the gaoler, meek and mild, and Annamaria felt half sorry for him as he fumbled with the keys to their cell. Jack had moved toward the back of the cell, where the gloom was heaviest, and the rum bottle lay empty on the stones.   
  
"You will speak with me now, Jack Sparrow?" the minister asked.  
  
Came the voice out of the dark corner, "That's Captain Jack Sparrow to you, mate."  
  
The chaplain turned to Annamaria. "And you, my child? Will you take the sacrament of communion and die spiritually, in the grace of God?"  
  
"I shall," she answered, and began to sway like she had done before.  
  
"My child, what is wrong?" The minister exclaimed, catching her like Jack had done. Annamaria dared to open one eye a little and looked out through her lashes. She saw Jack raise the bottle.  
  
With a sardonic smile, Jack said, "Father, forgive us," and clocked the reverend on the head with the empty rum bottle. As he collapsed to the ground, unconscious and likely to stay that way for several hours, Jack was already stripping him of his vestments.   
  
"Won't he be cold?" Annamaria wondered aloud.  
  
"Oh yes, hadn't thought of that." Jack said, creasing his brows in thought. "I'll have to dress him in my clothes, I suppose. Quite a nice old man, really, but I wish I didn't have to leave my stuff with him...maybe he'll keep them for me."  
  
As Annamaria's opinion of what Jack was wearing clearly was at odds with the wearer's, she remained silent on this matter, however much she smiled inwardly.   
  
"Don't forget the dog collar," she added. 


	4. Watch it, Philomena!

AN: Wow, I'm stoked by all the reviews. Keep 'em coming!  
  
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Annamaria fought desperately to quell the rising bubble of laughter that threatened to burst her open. She didn't dare look at Jack, for that would start her off and she didn't know whether she could stop. Staggering around the cell, she tried scraping her hands against the walls to take her mind off the crazy image in front of her, but it didn't work. Jack watched her facial contortions with an ambivalent feeling. All right, so he was bound to look strange, all dressed up in the chaplain's robes. Perhaps it was the hair. Yes, the hair was probably a bit much. He marched over to the quivering, rocking Annamaria and gave her a look down his nose. It couldn't stop her from choking with laughter.  
  
"Do I look funny to you?" he demanded with a dangerous look.  
  
Annamaria gasped, "Yes," and lost it. She couldn't see anything; the tears were streaming down her face. Jack gave a sympathetic snort - it was impossible not to, really, the whole thing was absurd - and they laughed until Annamaria stopped and began to hiccup. She reached up and pulled out the string that was holding her hair tied back off her face.   
  
"I think you need this more than I - hic! - do," she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand "Tie your hair back with this, and put his wig over the top."  
  
Jack went over to the corner where he and Annamaria had dragged the still unconscious minister, and pulled his wig off his head. Underneath, the chaplain's hair was a mousy brown colour, and they were surprised to see how young he looked without the white wig on.   
  
"Fashions of the time age you a bit, don't they, luv," Jack commented. "Lucky you and I don't go in for high society, eh?" He was tying back his hair with the string while he spoke, and finished by plopping the wig jauntily on top, at an angle. Annamaria sighed impatiently.  
  
"Let me..." she said, reaching up to tuck in all the odd bits of hair and beads that threatened to ruin the effectiveness of Jack's get-up. It was impossible not to look into Jack's eyes while she did this, and he unnerved her by saying nothing and simply looking back at her while she fixed his appearance. She stepped back to admire her handiwork, and giggled again, partially to fill the awkward silence but also because he was such a spectacle. The wig had definitely improved matters, Jack looked older and wiser, but...he just looked too exotic for a clergyman, and Annamaria said so.   
  
"It's the moustache, isn't it luv," he said with a frown. "Perhaps I could be a Spanish priest, but then I'd still face being stuck in gaol with the bloody English overlords wouldn't I...I could do French, I had a first mate who was a frog once. 'E zpoke laike zis," and with that he minced over to Annamaria.  
  
"Or you could shave it and the beard off," she said, "since you could always grow them back again."  
  
"Shave it off?!" Jack was flabbergasted. No one had ever suggested that to him, and Annamaria felt it was high time someone had. Who would ever think of plaiting a beard into two anyway, except the man standing in front of her? Nevertheless, Jack retorted with, "And what relation exactly are you to be to me? Sister, wife, second cousin twice removed?"  
  
"How long are we going to have to play our parts?" Annamaria asked, surprised. She'd just assumed that once they got out of the gaol, they'd go their separate ways and never see each other again.  
  
"Luv, they wanted to hang us both. How safe d'you think Port Royale's going to be with Captain Norrington and his band of merry men on our tails?"  
  
"So we leave." Annamaria replied. "But how?"  
  
"I'm a pirate. Guess how."  
  
She said thoughtfully, looking down at the priest at their feet, "I'll have to become a pirate too, I suppose. From thief to pirate."  
  
"It's a step up. If you think the way I do, and it's a lot more fun when you do." Jack said, watching her closely. She'd be a good pirate - thought quickly on her feet, improvised rapidly - but it was probably a big step to get her head around it at first. Petty theft was nothing to commandeering a ship. "So, what are you to me? For the next few days at least."  
  
Annamaria thought she'd have a little fun with Jack - pay him back for staring at her earlier. So she stepped over the body of the chaplain, suppressing the regret she felt for causing the egg-sized lump on his head, and stood so close to Jack that he could feel her breath on his face. She stood up so that her mouth was close to his ear, and whispered, "I'll be your wife, of course."  
  
Jack tilted his head, clearly interested. "Of course, why?"   
  
"Because," she said backing away, "we look absolutely nothing alike, so there is no way we could be brother and sister." She reached down and prised the keys out of the unconscious minister's hand, and swung them around her fingers. "Now, are we escaping, or are we going to stay here forever working out our story?"  
  
"Right," Jack said firmly, "for that I'm making your name be Philomena."  
  
"You wouldn't dare -" Annamaria spluttered..."Habakkuk."   
  
They stole out of the cell, locking the door from the outside and then tossing the keys out the window. Annamaria was about to suggest that they put the keys back through the bars into the cell so that the chaplain could let himself out when he awoke, but bit it back. The later he raised the hue and cry after them, the better. Going up the stairs was dicey, the stones slippery and mossy.   
  
"Terrible rising damp in these cells," Jack winked at Annamaria, "and they haven't fixed it since last time I was here." Then he winced as she hit his upper arm, supposing the subtle message was to be quiet.  
  
They were being careful to not wake the gaoler, who had fallen asleep - with his fly mercifully done up - with half a tankard of rum spilled down his front. It was unlikely he'd wake up, considering the relative strength of that particular brand of rum, which Annamaria once again reminded herself emphatically NOT to steal again. Still, some caution was necessary, and they made it outside the gaol without a hitch. The early morning sunrise were providing the first gleams of light in the dark grey sky. Once in the street and far enough from the gaol to be of no suspicion, they turned to each other.   
  
"Meet back here in a quarter of an hour or so," Annamaria ordered.  
  
Jack smiled, the sun sparking on his gold teeth. "Why? What am I meant to do?"  
  
"I'm going to steal a dress fitting for the wife of a clergyman. You can steal a razor and a mirror, and fix up your face." She turned and went down a side alley.  
  
Jack stood in the street, staring after her retreating back. He shrugged his shoulders, and swaggered off in the opposite direction. If someone had been standing next to him, they might well have heard him muttering something about 'a ball and a chain already, and I've only been married five minutes'. 


	5. Jack's Baptism

AN: Thanks for the reviews...how do you like this chapter?  
  
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It looked like it was going to be a terrible day. It was just sunrise, but already the clouds were a threatening mass of grey in the sky, and presently it began to rain. This was the final straw. Jack had already stolen into a sleeping house and had the use of a razor, and now the rain threatened to wash away the last remaining traces of Captain Jack Sparrow, master of the Black Pearl. Pausing to peer into a window, Jack reflected that he looked nothing like himself. He sighed and tried to turn his collar up - no, his collar wouldn't turn up, because it was a dog collar that threatened to strangle him every time he swallowed - instead he found shelter in a doorway until the rain had passed. He assumed Annamaria would do the same.  
  
Watching moodily the plinking of raindrops into the slowly spreading puddles, Jack fancied again that he could hear the faint tolling of the drowned church bells underwater, somewhere far out in the ocean. He shook his head quickly, for it was bad luck to be hearing the death bells, but the soft tones continued. The noise was beginning to irritate him somewhat when he realised that he was standing in the alcove of a church, and it wasn't imaginary bells that were ringing, but real ones, far above his head in the tower. The wind accompanying the rain caused them to rattle about softly in their places and gently chime, so quietly that Jack believed he wouldn't have noticed the sound at all had he not been so bored. He fingered the pistol in his belt through the chaplain's cassock. He damn well hoped that Barbossa was hearing the toll of the real death bells, wherever he was with Jack's ship. Just then he got the shock of his life as the door opened behind him and a hand clapped him on the shoulder.  
  
"Oh, you've come at last, Reverend. We weren't sure you'd get here in time, what with the rain and all, but you made it!"   
  
Jack opened and closed his mouth several times, but thought better of it. As he was dragged through the entrance hall into the church itself, he was thinking quickly. An entire congregation was in there, yet it wasn't Sunday. What then? A funeral? A marriage? He'd laugh if he had to marry some happy couple, who later found out they'd been living in sin courtesy of the famous Captain Jack Sparrow.  
  
"Reverend Walters, I'm so glad you could come." A hand crushed his own, and Jack forced a polite smile. "It's just that my wife wanted an English minister to christen our newborn, remind her of home y'know, and I had heard that you were living in the islands, so I sent for you."  
  
A weight lifted off Jack's shoulders. These people didn't know him and weren't expecting someone in particular, so he could brazen this out. "Not at all, not at all," he said with a smirk. "Glad to help out."  
  
"Well, we'll be starting in a few minutes, so if you'd like to go into the vestry...?"  
  
Jack wanted very much to go into the vestry, so he shot through the church so quickly that most of the congregation saw only a flurry of robes. He thanked the stars that he could read - most pirates he knew could barely make their mark, X - and scanned the shelves in the vestry for an order of service, preferably a script that he could recite. As he pulled books down from the shelves, he tossed them on the table impatiently while he searched for the one he needed. Finally he found it, a Book of Common Prayer, which would have to do, and turned to leave the vestry. The pile of upended and upturned books on the table would wait for the real Reverend Walters to clean up.   
  
"Wait a minute..." Jack murmured to himself. "What have we here?"   
  
His attention had been caught by one of the books he had so hurriedly flung onto the table. It had fallen open, and was completely hollowed out in the middle. Inside lay a small leather-bound book with a slip of paper sticking out of it, which Jack tucked inside his shirt as worthy of a further look, when time permitted.  
  
"That's interesting...very interesting," he said as he packed up the books. No need to let anyone know that their secret had been discovered. Finally, he strode out into the church, feeling cocky. Bring on the baby, because he was born to be a baptiser!  
  
Annamaria waited impatiently in a doorway near where they had said they would meet up. Jack's probably in a tavern right now, she thought, boozing it up. She decided to give it up if he didn't arrive after another twenty minutes had passed. She was a little nervous about meeting in this area, because after she had given the word to Jack and strode away from him down the alley, she had remembered why it was so familiar. Somewhere along here, not in this street but in one of the adjoining ones, Annamaria's fence lived. She passed what she had stolen along to him, and he took it and sold it for her. He only ever gave her about a quarter of what he had received for the goods back, but Annamaria had only tried holding goods back from him once. She still bore the scars. And now, after every delivery, he beat her, 'in case she was holding out', until she begged to go out and steal some more. He knew everywhere and everyone in Port Royale, so she couldn't escape him, either. He was probably at the gaol right now, going to silence her, to make sure she couldn't drop his name into it if she was questioned. That was why she wanted Jack to come back so desperately, she realised. He could sail her away from all this...drop her in Tortuga, and she could become a rum-runner. She had the smarts for it, after all. She shivered and drew the cloak that she had recently stolen a little tighter over her shoulders. The rain was making her remember far too much that she had forgotten overnight in Jack's company.   
  
Jack came triumphantly to the high point of his ceremony.   
  
"And as we pass the collection plate around, could I ask you to dig deep," he said in the measured, sorrowful tones of a religious man, "deep for the souls and widows and children of those men perished at sea, who lie deep under the waves."  
  
The plate was being passed around, and filling up quite nicely, Jack noted. "Dig deep to help your fellow men recover their ships, and sail into the path of everlasting righteousness."   
  
Yes, that was the stuff. He fingered his pistol again. "Deep for the souls of those murderous pirates who steal our ships, and pray for their everlasting damnation."  
  
As the plate was passed up to the front, Jack saw that his appeal had not gone unheard. He scooped the plate into the box and solemnly said, "Let us bow our heads in a moment of silent prayer and offering." As the congregation meekly bowed their heads, Jack tucked the box of collection money under his robes, and smiled. He studied his nails for a moment longer, and then said brightly, "Right! Bring me the child!"  
  
The baby was placed in his arms. Jack looked down at the baby, and over to the happy family. He whispered to the baby, "Don't make a fuss, but I'm not really a priest." He carried the baby over to the font and looked down the church to where a disturbance was occurring in the front foyer. Jack could hear an outraged voice protesting that he was the REAL Reverend Walters. Others of the congregation were turning their heads toward the noise. He quickly dipped the entire baby into the water of the font, ignoring its protesting squalls, and thrust the dripping baby into the mother's arms.  
  
"Bloody hell!" he said. "So sorry, but I must dash, no-time-to-argue," he cut off the protesting woman. He sprinted out through the vestry to the back door of the church, going faster than a minister had ever gone before. Jack looked around wildly, getting his bearings, and began to run toward the rendezvous with Annamaria. She was going to kill him for being this late. 


	6. Dark roads, Biblical codes

AN: Such lovely reviews! I'm splitting this next chapter into two parts, as it's so long - so I apologise for the cliffhanger at the end.  
  
Oh - and as for the code - perhaps YOU can work it out before Jack does.  
  
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The early morning rain had stopped now, as Jack ran from the fiasco he had created back at the church. The bells were chiming; he hoped that was to mark the hour rather than his christening chaos. The streets were washed clean and were covered with grey puddles reflecting the overcast sky above. Once Jack had got within one or two streets of where he was supposed to be meeting Annamaria, he slowed, reached into his inner pocket and drew out the mysterious leather-bound book that he had found in the vestry. He flipped it open, and it was a Bible. Why conceal a Bible? There had to be more to it than this - you could find a hundred Bibles in that church, none hidden inside a book with the pages cut out. He licked his finger and drew out the sheet of parchment that was tucked inside the innermost leaf of the Bible. The paper simply read:  
  
  
  
"I sang a hundred and four Psalms for twenty-five days, and a revelation struck me that 1812 souls would be lost in the wreck. Matthew watched me for the twenty-five days voyage but joined me but eighteen times. His epiphany came after six hours and fifteen minutes, but he was told the wreck would founder in seven times seventeen minutes. There were three islands builded on I Peter 18."  
  
And in a different, scrawling hand underneath, someone else had written "Beware Revelation 9:6."  
  
"At least it's nice and vague," Jack muttered, and he began to look up the ninth chapter of Revelation. His eyes were straining to read the fine print of the Bible and he stumbled along, not watching where he placed his feet, splashing into the puddles. He didn't notice the red coat that materialised in front of him until he walked right into it. Then he raised his eyes to make contact with the irritated eyes of a regimental soldier. He recognised him - it was the captain of the fort. Norrington...Nerrington...Herrington...Herringbone?... someone like that, Jack thought quickly, glad that he hadn't officially made the captain's acquaintance.   
  
"HERE! Watch it!" The officer said angrily. Then he noticed the dog collar, the robes. "Well, I'm sorry minister - absorbed in the Holy Word were we? Do allow me."  
  
Raising his hat, the soldier bowed to him and Jack swept past, murmuring "Bless you, my man" as he did so. He didn't permit himself the ghost of a smile until he had put a little distance between himself and...Nottingbone. Then he grinned from ear to ear. First a christening, now a nod from the captain of the regiment! This was proving to be a very different type of day to Captain Jack Sparrow's usual.   
  
Back to perusing the book, Jack finally isolated Revelation, Chapter Nine, and Verse 6. He read it out slowly: "And in those days shall men seek death, and will not find it; they shall desire to die, and death shall flee before them."   
  
He stopped, rolling his eyes. "And what does that mean? Beware death? Beware wanting to die? Lot of rot..." Packing the book and the paper back up together, he thrust them back inside his robes. The puzzle would have to wait a little longer to be solved. There was a more pressing problem - he had reached the spot where Annamaria was meant to meet him, and she was nowhere to be seen. He started to walk down the dark alley he had seen her disappear down that morning, and stopped when he saw her discarded dress lying on the stones.  
  
Annamaria had waited and waited for Jack. She heard the church bells chiming the hour from her doorstep and sighed. His time was up. Flinging her old clothes to the ground - she had kept them in a bundle in case they were required - she began to walk quickly down the alley, almost to the end. This part of the town was a maze of streets, since when the town was built the area was built upon higgledy-piggledy. Consequently, lane after lane criss-crossed the area like spider webs. She kept her head down so as to get through as quickly as possible, making for the dock area. The last thing she needed right now was to meet someone who knew her. The buildings rose up on either side, blocking out the feeble daylight, but at least the rain had stopped.   
  
She reached a point where three lanes intersected with the alley and momentarily lost her bearings. Bloody hell, Annamaria thought furiously, angry with herself: you've been down here so often that the streets oughtn't to look the same anymore! She picked the middle one and walked a little down it. No one in this district would be up yet - not unless they were still on last night's bender - yet she could have sworn that there had been a figure standing in the gloom up ahead of her, which had ducked into a doorway. She slowed, unsure, and her voice involuntarily quavered a little.  
  
"Is anybody there?"  
  
"Darlin', somebody is." a voice drawled. Annamaria recognised it, and her bad dream of the night before.  
  
After he saw the dress, Jack knew he was in the right place. He quickly walked down the alley, peering into all the side lanes. It was impossible to tell if the girl had taken any of the other streets. He fingered his pistol and checked that his sword was still hanging by his side. There'd be cutpurses and desperate men in these streets, looking for an easy target, and a chaplain would do the trick nicely. It was unlucky for them that most ministers didn't carry an armoury hidden under their cassocks.  
  
When he heard a scream from Annamaria he broke into a run. Rounding the corner, he saw the girl crouched on the ground, clearly winded, with a man nearly twice his size kicking her in the stomach. He had just knelt down and brought his fist back to punch her in the face when Jack tapped him on the shoulder.  
  
"You'd better not be doing anything with that fist, mate," Jack said pleasantly, "that doesn't involve ramming it up your own backside."  
  
The man stood up, astonished, as Annamaria tried desperately to fight for breath on the stones. "You look like a clergyman, yet you talk like..."  
  
"Like a pirate?" Jack supplied, taking off his cassock to reveal shirt and britches beneath. Folding the cassock, he placed it on the cobbles. "Perhaps that's because I am. And who are you?" Carefully he placed the collection box from the church and the leather Bible on top of the folded up robes.  
  
"Murdock's my name," the larger man said menacingly. "What are you doing?" he asked, dumbfounded. He began to crack his knuckles ominously - this man didn't even appear to be scared of him at all.   
  
Jack looked up. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm arranging my belongings, savvy? They're hard to carry around in a fight," he said, drawing his sword, straightening up, and gesturing to Annamaria. "And we'll be fighting now."  
  
"You don't even know this girl," the older man sneered. "She's a filthy whore."  
  
"Is she?" Jack queried. "I didn't know."  
  
Behind him on the ground, Annamaria was hurting all over, and could barely see through the unshed tears in her eyes. She was angry at her weakness, but she was in so much pain that she had no control over what her eyes chose to do. She tried to breath in deeply, and her ribs stabbed like knives. Jack saw her shudderingly raise herself to her hands and knees behind Murdock, and immediately switched his attention back to her assailant.  
  
As the man took a step towards him, unsheathing his own sword, Jack held up a hand to arrest him. "I forgot something," he said with a smile, reaching up and pulling off his borrowed wig. He put it on the little pile of his belongings.   
  
"Right! Are you ready now!"  
  
"Oh, yes," Jack said obligingly, and suddenly lunged forward with his sword. 


	7. An eye for an eye

AN: As promised, here is the other part. See, you didn't have to wait long to find out what happened, did you? This chap rated PG (violence).  
  
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They fought, and he had to admit that the man knew his stuff. Back and forth they danced, and Jack was enjoying it. It had been a while since he had had a fight worth remembering, and it wasn't until he was being pushed back, and back, and back, that he had the uncomfortable feeling that he should be concentrating a little harder on winning said fight. He made a daring thrust - too daring - the sword was knocked from his hands. They circled each other in the close lane, Jack unarmed.   
  
"There's no one in this part of town that can help you now, pirate," Murdock sneered. "I own all these houses, and they're empty."  
  
"You don't do a lot of maintenance work on them," Jack retorted, looking around the street pointedly.  
  
Annamaria, shaky and on her knees, realised that if they were to win this fight it was up to her. The duelling men had forgotten her existence during the fight, and as they circled in front of her she reached out with a final effort and pulled strongly on the ankle of her tormentor, before the world turned black. With a surprised yelp, he stumbled backwards, throwing his sword into the air in shock. He crashed heavily down to the ground, striking the back of his head on the stones. As the man shook his head blearily, Jack deftly caught the end of his sword and reversed it, standing over him to point it at his throat. With a slightly less affable air as he looked over at Annamaria lying face first on the cobblestones, he said:  
  
"Murdock, you've beaten this girl into unconsciousness, and she's beaten you anyway. Now I ask meself, what's the most fitting thing to do at this point in time?"  
  
Murdock's mouth opened and shut like a goldfish, but he made no reply.  
  
"Seems to me," Jack said, rolling Annamaria over so that she lay on her back, "that the fairest thing would be a reciprocating agreement."   
  
He carefully kept the tip of his sword pressed into the man's throat but with his other hand, Jack undid the outermost layer of Annamaria's garments. Then he whistled.  
  
"These aren't all from today, you know. I feel that you and this girl have a long history, judging by these scars. And these barely healed cuts..." he pointed them out on her chest and back, "those too look like they came from you."  
  
"So what if they did?" Murdock was beginning to regain some of his cockiness.  
  
"Well, mate," Jack said bringing his face close to the other man's face, "that was...the wrong answer." Calmly he reached down and ripped open the other man's shirt.  
  
Annamaria woke to pain all over her body. As she opened her eyes, she heard Murdock grunting in pain, and then she sat up fully in surprise.   
  
"Jack! What are you doing?"  
  
Jack looked over to Annamaria, leaning on his sword, and she was horrified to notice that the tip of the sword was leaning on Murdock's stomach. Jack had been at his work now for roughly ten minutes, and Murdock's chest and back was criss-crossed with bleeding cuts roughly resembling the scars on Annamaria. "What does it look like I'm doing, luv? An eye for an eye!"  
  
Suddenly he kicked Murdock in the head, for the larger man had begun to roll away, and arrested his escape.  
  
"Jack," Annamaria said slowly, "I can't move my arm." She walked over to where he stood looking down at the unconscious bully. Jack's hands ran over her shoulder, examining it, and she flinched.  
  
"It's dislocated," Jack said sympathetically. "I'm going to have to snap it back in. This could hurt a bit."  
  
Annamaria braced herself against the wall as Jack clicked her shoulder back in. It did hurt, a lot, but she bit her lip and remained stoic. With an unreadable expression Jack and said "Good girl," then looked back down at Murdock. Then he abruptly jumped as hard as he could on Murdock's shoulder, and Annamaria heard a sickening crunch as the bone pulled out of the socket. The man gasped and shuddered his way back to awareness.  
  
"You're supposed to be a priest!" Murdock spat out through clenched jaw.   
  
"Yes, well," Jack said while booting him in the stomach, "vengeance is mine."  
  
"Jack," Annamaria interjected meekly, "That's 'vengeance is mine, saith the Lord.'"  
  
Jack whistled. "If it isn't the little orphanage girl, come out to play!" He clasped his hands together in an exaggerated benedictory gesture and bowed to Annamaria.  
  
"How about," he said softly, pointing at the purplish bruises on Annamaria's upper arm, "vengeance is mine, says bloody pirate Captain Jack Sparrow!" With that, he whirled and kicked Murdock twice, hard, in his upper arms.  
  
"Enough!" the beaten man begged. "I won't hurt her again, see if I won't!"  
  
"Oh, you won't," Jack said pleasantly. "If I hear of you menacing a single person again, and I do have ears in every town, I'll come back here and repeat this lesson, and it won't end with you sitting in a corner facing the wall. You'll be in a box facing six feet of dirt. Do we have an accord?"   
  
He swaggered over and picked his pistol up off the ground, pointing it at the shaken and bloody Murdock. On the man's affirmative reply Jack quickly reversed the pistol and clunked Murdock on the head with the butt. He was out like a light. Then Jack turned to Annamaria, who said slowly:  
  
"Thankyou for saving my life, Jack."  
  
"Thankyou for saving MY life, Annamaria luv," Jack said, handing her the dress he had pulled off to see her wounds. "You pulled him down, ended the fight. I would have lost if it wasn't for you." He strolled over and grabbed Murdock by the ankles, to drag him into an empty house.  
  
"You wouldn't have got into it if it wasn't for me," Annamaria said bitterly, lacing up the bodice. She breathed in to do up the buttons, and immediately winced as her bruised ribs sent a shock of pain through her body. Jack saw her bend and shudder, as he returned from disposing of Murdock.  
  
"God, that man's a heavy oaf," he said brightly. "I had hoped that all the blood I drained out of him would make him a little lighter to carry, but no."  
  
Swaggering over to where he had placed his effects, Jack drew the cassock over his head once more. Looking at the wig, and then at Annamaria, he decided he would have to put it on by himself - she couldn't raise her arms, and it would be days before the physical symptoms of this fight healed. The best thing to do would be to distract her from the pain, Jack decided. Tucking the mysterious book into his robes, he rattled the collection box at Annamaria, winking, and then tucked it in too.  
  
"Jack," she said, and then hesitated, unsure of what to say next. "You haven't...you haven't been robbing churches while I've been waiting for you, have you?"  
  
"What?" Jack asked, loftily. "I've been christening babies, luv. I do it all, weddings, funerals...from birth to death, not a ceremony I won't have a bash at."  
  
Quick as a wink Annamaria's hand flashed out and slapped him in the face. Jack was shocked. "Don't think I deserved that, luv, an assault on a minister."  
  
They walked down the alley a few moments in silence, the very picture of a respectable clergyman and his wife.  
  
Presently Annamaria said, "I don't believe you."  
  
"I did! I baptised a baby!" Jack said aggrieved.  
  
"Liar."  
  
"Blasphemer." 


	8. Sorry, Philly!

AN: I'm so sorry I haven't updated for a while; I hope you guys can remember the story! I've been busy with school and sport, the only reason I was able to get this chapter out is because it was thunder and lightning tonight and training was cancelled. Thanks for the reviews, champs! You guys rock!  
  
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It was still early in the morning. A watery sun had tried to peek out from between the grey clouds but it had given up the struggle. Water dripped from the eaves of the ramshackle dwellings and plinked into the puddles remaining in the streets. Jack had fixed Annamaria up with a sling for her arm; while his rough medicine had clicked her shoulder back into place he could see that it would be several days before she could use that arm for anything. She really had been quite badly beaten; he wondered if he had been too easy on Murdock, but without knowing anything of the prior history between these two, he had felt it hard to be judge, jury and executioner.   
  
"What precisely - " he stopped, and spun to face the other way. "I'm sorry, luv, I didn't notice you were falling behind."  
  
He walked back the few steps to where Annamaria was. Her face betrayed little of the strain it was hiding, but her laboured breathing suggested otherwise.   
  
"I'm sorry, Jack," Annamaria apologised, "but I'm still a little winded."  
  
"You know, we don't have to do this straightaway," Jack suggested. "Commandeer a boat, I mean. We could rest up for a day to give you some time to recover."  
  
"No, I'll be better soon," she replied valiantly. "It's happened before, though never as bad - but I'll mend soon enough. It's just my arm, and it's dangerous for you to stay here."  
  
It wasn't just her shoulder, Jack could see that, but he accepted her decision. He had noticed in their short acquaintance that it was hard to gainsay Annamaria when she had that particular mulish gleam in her eyes. He took her hands in his own.  
  
"I want you to promise me something, luv."  
  
Annamaria could see that he didn't believe her appraisal of her injuries. She found it hard to raise her eyes to meet Jack's, and instead stared at his brown hands. "What is it, Jack?"  
  
"That whenever we get on board, or we have a spare moment and aren't being pursued or in fear of our lives, you..." He paused for emphasis, gesturing with their hands. "...You will tell me who that man is and why he felt the need to batter you into a heap, savvy?"  
  
Annamaria met Jack's smiling eyes then. She said defiantly, "I get a question too."  
  
Jack let go then, in order to wave his own hands around theatrically.   
  
"Anything my wife wants to know," he said, grinning.  
  
"Why are you here? The famous pirate, in Port Royal Gaol, without his ship?" Annamaria asked curiously. She had wondered, ever since they had met in the gaol, but hadn't liked to ask during the night - but since he was determined to dredge up secrets...  
  
It was as though, for a moment, the light went out of Jack's eyes, and his face was shuttered. Only for a split second, and then he bowed.   
  
"It is a story worthy of the telling," he said bitterly. "Needs time, though."  
  
They were nearing the quay. The streets were getting lighter, airier, as though they were as eager to flow out into the wide-open emptiness of the ocean as the sailors who lived in them. It was more likely now that they would meet someone, no matter how inconspicuous they were, and Annamaria did her best to walk quickly. However, a person materialised, walking towards them with brisk steps. Both Jack and Annamaria bowed their heads in greeting and made as if to walk by, but the stranger accosted them.   
  
"Captain Jack Sparrow?" the man asked, looking up and down the street before he spoke.  
  
Jack considered his answer. On the one hand, the man - well, not much more than a boy, really - had remembered his title, as so many rarely did. On the other hand, he was sure that he hadn't many friends in Port Royale - or any friends that wouldn't greet him with a slap or a noose.  
  
"I believe you must be mistaken, young man," Jack said in a suitably pompous voice. "I am the Reverend William Walters, and this is my wife Philomena."  
  
Then he winced as he felt Annamaria's good elbow hit his ribs. "I beg your pardon, my dear Philly." He smiled at the man. "She hates being called Philomena."  
  
The young man looked impatient. "No, you aren't. You are Captain Jack Sparrow, of the ship the Black Pearl."  
  
Annamaria was used to sizing people up on the spot, and instinctively she knew that it would be no use trying to deceive this direct young man. She studied him. He was of average height, tanned a dark brown, with hair so fair that it was almost white - an uncommon enough colour, but it was neither this, nor the clothes he was wearing (old-fashioned, even with the snail's pace at which men's styles changed) that drew her attention. It was his eyes. Whereas Jack's were dark and expressive, yet controlled, this man's were almost feverish in their tawny excitement. It was hard to describe their expression; it was as though this young man had lived through horrors and shrugged them off, yet still some vestiges remained and looked out. He had not learned to veil his emotions like thieves had to, or pirates, Annamaria concluded, coming back to earth with a jolt.  
  
"Pardon?" she murmured, conscious that both men were looking to her for an answer.  
  
"If he is Captain Jack Sparrow, who are you?" the man repeated.   
  
She said, watching Jack nod at her, "I am someone he met in gaol."  
  
"But you must have a name?" he persisted.  
  
"I am Annamaria," she said uncertainly. "I have no surname."  
  
"I haven't one either," the man said. "People call me Daniel."  
  
"What do you call yourself?" Annamaria asked shrewdly, but the man smiled enigmatically at her, refusing to reply.  
  
"Well, now that we're all introduced," Jack bowed to the two others, "would you mind awfully if I could steer this conversation towards telling us what you want?"  
  
"I want to come with you."  
  
"Mind if I ask why?" Jack said.  
  
"At the moment - yes, I do," Daniel said calmly. There was a long pause, as Jack looked him up and down. Annamaria was shocked when Jack seemed to accept this non-answer, and extended his arm.   
  
As he shook hands with the stranger, Jack pulled him in closer and said seriously, "I've never been wrong in my judgement of people - well, once - and I expect to be told within the next few days why you will be wanting to sail with me, agreed?"  
  
Daniel nodded. "Agreed."  
  
"Right!" Jack said brightly. "Is that all you'll be bringing, yourself...? No rum? Shame. Now that we're all friends, let's stroll down to the dock and see if we can't borrow a ship to get us out of this god-forsaken port."  
  
Luck was on their side. As Jack and Annamaria approached the quay, arm in arm as befitting a young cleric and his wife (Daniel following them at a respectable distance as befitted their servant) they were hailed by a ship preparing to depart.  
  
"Halloo! Reverend Walters, your berth!"   
  
Jack took the time to raise his eyes to the sky and bless whatever gods had provided the real Reverend Walters with his terrible day. Then they walked to the end of the gangplank, and the voice that had hailed them continued hesitantly:  
  
"Reverend Walters? You are late! Your trunk is already aboard, but we had no word that your wife and servant were joining us as well."  
  
"I'm sorry," Jack said with no evidence of regret. "I must have omitted to write and tell you. Please, forgive me. My wife, Philomena, and my servant...Matthews. There will be room enough, won't there?"  
  
The reply was in the affirmative. After they were quickly ushered up the gangplank, the ropes were cast off, and the ship began to move off from the quay. Daniel was taken to the cabin set aside for the real Reverend Walters, as was his trunk for the servant to unpack. Annamaria said nothing, apart from letting out a long sigh and running her hand up a rope to feel the roughness beneath her palm. Meanwhile, Jack's peculiar land gait seemed to have all but disappeared. As he took in a deep breath of blessed sea air, he looked back towards the diminishing Port Royale and fancied he could see the real Reverend dancing like an angry maggot amid the crates on the dock, arms gesticulating wildly in the air. Jack blew him a kiss, and turned his back. 


	9. Don't spit on the crew, luv

AN: Now you know a little more about Daniel...thanks for the reviews! Tell me if you think it's getting boring, too solemn, or whatever, because all criticism is appreciated! Next time, they'll crack the code. And maybe finally feed themselves.  
  
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"Now that we're underway, Reverend, the Captain will see you," said one of the men. Annamaria and Jack were shepherded together and up to the bridge, where a few of the sailors on duty straightened up from their scrubbing to give them unfriendly stares. The captain of the ship, a jovial (or so he liked to appear) man but past his prime, beamed cordially at them, and, rubbing his hands, said:  
  
"I'm Captain Hakes - welcome aboard, you're very welcome."  
  
As Jack nodded in response he could have sworn he heard someone behind him shuffle his feet and mutter, "No, they're not." Choosing to ignore it, if he had even heard it, the captain continued his monologue.   
  
"Splendid! We don't usually accommodate passengers on the 'Adversary' but your case was pleaded so eloquently in the letter that I felt compelled to accept. I trust you won't find the room cramped? Some might say a woman is bad luck on board, but not I! We had no word of Mrs Walters or your servant, but I'm sure my able first mate has put you in the picture already...yes? Good. Well! Luncheon at noon, I think."  
  
With that, the captain departed into a cabin off the bridge with a vague wave of his hand. Jack took that to mean that they were dismissed.  
  
"Luncheon," he whispered to Annamaria, "is one of the best words I've heard all day."  
  
Annamaria couldn't deny that she was starving. She hadn't had anything to eat for at least a day, and the hour of noon couldn't come soon enough. The sun had finally come out from behind its overcoat of cloud and its rays illuminated the ship, the creamy sails almost blinding in their reflection of light. As they turned to go, however, something occurred to spoil her blithe mood. Walking through the ranks of sailors as they followed the first mate, Oldbourn, foul remarks and catcalls followed them:  
  
"The churchie's got 'imself a dirty black 'un, ain't 'e? Tain't right, whites marryin' savages."  
  
"Only good fer one thing, they are, an' ye gotta pay 'em after."  
  
Oldbourn turned around and smirked at them. Jack felt Annamaria stiffen by his side, her muscles tensing to spring, and closed his eyes while he anticipated in despair a repeat performance of the gaoler's humiliation that morning.  
  
"Luv," he whispered urgently, grasping her arm so tightly that it hurt, "a minister's wife does not spit." He steered her quickly off the deck and below, calling over his shoulder "I need to have a moment with my wife in our cabin."  
  
Down below, Annamaria flung off his arm as though it stung her.   
  
"What did you do that for?" she flashed, slapping him in the face. "Do you think I haven't heard that kind of talk before?"  
  
Daniel stood up as they slammed into the cabin, but neither of them noticed him.   
  
"Of course you've heard that talk, everyone has." Jack replied. "I thought you were going to do something stupid, so I held you back." As she raised her hand for another hit, his hand came up quickly to catch her wrist. She tried to draw her arm back, but he gripped it like steel. "I thought you were going to gouge his eyes out, do something desperately unladylike."  
  
Daniel raised an eyebrow as now Jack began to force her arm down, backing Annamaria against the wall. He held her there, pinioned for a few seconds, as his eyes bore into hers. Then his other hand began to push her other, dislocated, shoulder against the wall as she cried out in pain. From Annamaria's perspective it felt like hours before she broke eye contact and jerked out grudgingly, "I was going to scratch that smirk off First Mate Oldbourn's face, all right?"  
  
Jack released her, and she held her wrist against her cheek, rubbing it on her face because her other arm was in its sling. "You hurt me," she said accusingly.   
  
"You started it," Jack said peaceably, his palms outstretched.  
  
"You didn't fight fairly," Daniel's voice cut in. "Capitalising on her sore shoulder."  
  
"I'm a pirate," Jack said exasperated, "and capitalising on weaknesses is what we do best, savvy? Besides, if she'd had accepted that I removed her from the deck for a reason, we'd none of us have got to this point."   
  
He swaggered over to the table provided for Reverend Walters and sat in the one chair. Silence reigned in the cabin for a few moments as all three took stock of their surroundings. A utilitarian iron bed occupied one corner of the cabin, which was a spacious cabin for one but slightly cramped with its present occupants. The wooden table at which Jack sat was bolted to the floor in another corner, and Walters' trunk sat in the middle of the floor. The rest of the fittings were sparse. Perhaps this had been the first or second mate's cabin, Jack surmised, and he had had cleared it out for the guests. Presently Daniel spoke.  
  
"I have looked through the minister's belongings," he said slowly. "There isn't much. Writing materials, a couple of books, spare robes."  
  
Annamaria was glad of the break in the oppressive silence. "What are the books?"  
  
"I don't know," Daniel said hesitatingly. "I...I cannot read their titles."  
  
Annamaria walked to the trunk, swaying with the movement of the ship, and knelt in front of it. Fishing around with her good arm, she pulled out one book and looked at the cover. Then she put it down and probed for the other.  
  
"A Bible and a copy of Shakespeare's 'The Tempest'," she announced. As she went to put them back in the chest, another, smaller book fell out from where it was tucked inside the covers of the play. A single word was scrawled on the front. Annamaria sounded the unfamiliar word out. "Ooh...lice...sez. Oolicesez? What's that?" She flipped the book open, and then banged it to the floor. "It's in some other language, not English."  
  
Jack leaned over from the chair to peer at the book. "Ulysses, luv. I think it's Greek. Our dear friend Reverend Walters must be a man of letters."  
  
"You can read, too?" Annamaria asked, then: "What is Ulysses?"  
  
"Not what, luv, who," Jack drawled, "and I can't read Greek. My mam told me the story of Ulysses when I was young. Sea journeys, and all that."  
  
Annamaria and Daniel both stared at him. Bothered, Jack said "What?"  
  
"I can't imagine your mother," Annamaria said. Then she choked back a laugh as an image of an unmistakeable Jack on his mother's knee at age eight entered her head, complete with assorted beads and jewellery.   
  
"Tell us the story one day," Daniel said as Jack got up and scooped the books back into the trunk.  
  
"Daniel," Jack began, and then stopped. "It strikes me that all of us have some stories to be telling one another on this voyage, and you being a completely unknown entity to both of us...you will start us off."  
  
As Daniel made no move to open his mouth, Jack waved his hands in encouragement. "Let's hear it!"  
  
"Do you want my life story or why I am here with you?" Daniel finally said.  
  
"I think the most recent events will suffice for now." Jack replied. He and Annamaria settled themselves in attitudes of listening as Daniel began to speak.  
  
"I am here because this morning I was hiding just outside the vestry of St James' Church, Port Royal." Jack stiffened imperceptibly. "I was there because I had just been into the church, thinking in my innocence that it would be a safe hiding place for something very dear to me. I was quite sure that nobody would bother to look in the musty shelves, or indeed had been up there for years...the dust was overwhelming. I carefully cut out the inner section of one of the old Bibles, the big ones, and slipped my little package inside. I had just left the vestry when I heard someone else come in. That, I wasn't expecting, so I stayed with my ear to the wall. I clearly heard some mumbling about a Common Prayer. You can imagine how horrified I was when I started hearing books thud to the table, and then a pause."   
  
Jack reached into his cassock to check the leather book was safe, tucked next to his skin, while never breaking eye contact with Daniel. Annamaria listened, sure that these two men were sharing an experience which she had no part of - but she was insanely curious.   
  
"I peeked into the vestry. You were just tucking my charge into your robes. I slipped out and hid in the congregation...for someone who had never christened a child, you did remarkably well. I thought you were a minister, maybe a minister who'd had a little too much communion wine but still, a minister - until the disturbance at the door. I had to know who you were, if you weren't the Reverend Walters. Then I connected you with some mumbling about the famous pirate Jack Sparrow that I had heard, captured and awaiting execution in Port Royal Gaol, and I knew."  
  
"So you followed us," Annamaria said.  
  
"No - I lost track of him among the alleys. Then I found you both together."  
  
"Why did you hide the Bible?" Jack said. "And who wrote the code that's with it, if you can't read?"  
  
"Is it a code?" Daniel asked eagerly. "Have you broken it?"  
  
"I can honestly say that I haven't had a lot of time this morning," Jack said, glancing at Annamaria. "Been busy with other things. But two hands have written the parchment and one was a little more specific than the other." He held up his hand and read: "'And in those days shall men seek death, and will not find it; they shall desire to die, and death shall flee before them.' Any idea what that means, Daniel?"  
  
Daniel breathed slowly out. "The curse..." he sighed. "He knew of it, of course."  
  
Then he appeared to clam up, as if he had said too much. They waited for him to continue, but a cloak of silence seemed to have descended on the cabin.  
  
"Of course," Jack echoed mockingly, his voice sounding loud in the stillness. "I think we may have to hear a little more of your life story before I give you back what's yours."  
  
He got up and walked out of the room, closing the door exaggeratedly softly. Annamaria was left to stare curiously at the bowed fair head, before Daniel too stalked out of the room. Suddenly all the aches and pains of the morning and the night before came back, and she crawled onto the bed, cradling her arm and rocked to sleep by the rolling ship. 


	10. Cracking the code with a rock

AN: Thanks everyone for your patience, and here's chapter 10! Microsoft Word's back to normal! Wish me luck for my literature exam tomorrow...I procrastinated by finishing off this chapter instead. If you want to reread the code, it's in chapter 6, but I don't know how necessary it is. It was pretty vague.  
  
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Jack had walked out of the cabin with no clear idea in his mind of where he was going. He knew, however, that before he heard more from Daniel he would like to have a little information up his sleeve, and for that reason he was determined to break the mysterious code of the leather book before luncheon was served. It gave him about half an hour to puzzle it out. Wandering in search of a likely spot, he was unable to find anywhere that wasn't crawling with sailors. Why weren't they below, drinking the rum he couldn't have, he thought irritably, ignoring the rational voice in the back of his head telling him that they had as much right to be there as the impostor in the borrowed cassock on their own ship. On their own ship...Jack felt at home on the 'Adversary'. It was good to feel wooden deck beneath his feet and to know that skimming along on the wide, endless ocean he was about as close as he could be to flying. Yet at the same time he felt displaced, rootless without his 'Pearl', and he was damned if he was going to give up seeking revenge against the man who had cut him loose.   
  
Finally, as he was about to give up the fruitless search for his own space - it was somewhat easier, he reflected, when you had your own captain's cabin and a lock on the door - he noticed the uncanny fair hair of his 'manservant' 'Matthews' further along the deck, talking to some of the crew. Jack realised that if Daniel was out here, he certainly wasn't in the cabin, and bent his steps quickly back.   
  
Opening the door, he was surprised to see Annamaria asleep on the bed. Jack's lips curved in an amused smile and he tiptoed over to the trunk, pulling out a sheet of paper and quill and ink, should they be required. He put them on the table and then gently pushed the trunk so that anyone opening the door would get stuck and make a racket. Jack was used to creating early warning systems; no pirate captain would be caught dead with an unlockable door at their back. It was a pity that these devices did not guard against other, more insidious forms of stabbing one's mate in the back. He pulled out the Bible and parchment.  
  
"I sang a hundred and four Psalms for twenty-five days," Jack muttered. He licked his finger and flicked through the pages of the Bible. Good! There was a book of Psalms. He looked up the twenty-fifth psalm, but nothing seemed unusual. He counted a hundred and four words in laboriously, but no word leapt out as being significant. He sighed a long sigh, and then started as Annamaria yelped in her sleep. He looked at her in surprise - she was a very light sleeper if that disturbed her. Exhaling again, but a little quieter, Jack picked up the Bible again, and this time prepared to look up Psalm 104. Then he had a brainwave. Perhaps the 25 referred to chapters?  
  
Jack scratched the twelve words he had found with small, barely noticeable dots beneath them onto the paper in front of him. This seemed promising.   
  
"Yonder is the sea, great and wide," Jack began to read aloud. He was interrupted. Annamaria raised herself up on her good arm and blinked across the room at him.  
  
"What are you babbling about, Jack Sparrow?" she said crossly. "You woke me up."  
  
"Sorry about that luv," Jack replied. "I think I've got the hang of this thing, though."  
  
He shook the paper at her. Annamaria, intrigued, got up and looked over his shoulder.   
  
"Yonder is the sea, great and wide, which teems with things innumerable," she read slowly. "Are you sure that's all it says?"  
  
"What? No, that's only the first part. Look," Jack showed her the parchment. "That sentence about the Psalms," he stabbed a forefinger, "worked out to be Psalm 104, chapter 25. I still have to find all the other verses though, savvy?"  
  
"Well," Annamaria said, "the next sentence has to be Revelation."  
  
Jack read the next part of the clue aloud. "And a revelation struck me that 1812 souls would be lost in the wreck."  
  
He paused, as if lost for thought for a moment. Annamaria looked enquiringly at him.   
  
"Penny for my thoughts, luv? I was thinking how strange it was that I impersonate a clergyman and find a cipher from the Bible on the same day." Jack shrugged. "Funny how things work out."  
  
"Jack, you can sit there pondering as long as you want, but pass me the Bible."  
  
Obligingly, Jack tossed the Bible to her. "Look for the words with dots under them, in chapter eighteen, verse twelve."  
  
Slowly Annamaria scanned the chapter. "I've got it! Write this down, Jack: 'cargo of gold, silver, jewels and pearls'."  
  
"Yonder is the sea, great and wide, which teems with things innumerable - cargo of gold, silver, jewels and pearls." Jack laughed. "Sounds promising, doesn't it luv? All right, next clue...Matthew watched me -"  
  
"That would be the Book of Matthew - "  
  
"For the twenty five days voyage but joined me but 18 times. Matthew, chap 25, verse 18." He leaned over and grabbed the book out of Annamaria's hands. "My turn."  
  
Annamaria protested as Jack flipped through the pages. She leant over the table to pull on Jack's arm but after a quick tussle and a victorious arm wrestle, Jack went on calmly perusing the Bible.  
  
"That wasn't my good arm," Annamaria pouted. "I still can't really feel my right arm, but when it gets back to normal, you're going down, Jack Sparrow."  
  
"Turn and turn about, luv," Jack replied. "Don't blame your bruises for not wanting to share." He winked at her and continued in a haughty voice. "Matthew 25:18 gives us this: 'but he who had received the one talent went and dug in the ground and hid his master's money'."  
  
"So the treasure, gold and jewels and so on, is buried somewhere. Or under the sea."  
  
"Very perceptive, luv. Here, have a go at the next one."  
  
Annamaria looked at the parchment, and then at Jack. " His epiphany came after six hours and fifteen minutes, but he was told the wreck would founder in seven times seventeen minutes...there is no book of Epiphany, Jack. You gave me the one you couldn't do!"  
  
Jack swung back in his chair and propped his legs on the corner of the table, winking at Annamaria as he did so. "I may have done, yes. I can't be expected to do all the thinkin' round here, can I?"  
  
"You're lazy, mate," Annamaria countered, "and if you'd taxed your brain a little further out of its coma you would have realised that epiphany means something quite similar to revelation. Sort of like when a pirate realises he must become a priest to escape a prison."  
  
"A rare moment of inspiration -" Jack began loftily.  
  
"Shhh. I'm looking up Revelation 6:15...the words with dots under them...'hid in the caves and among the rocks of the mountains'." She lowered the book and stared at Jack. "A treasure cave...these are the directions to a treasure cave!"  
  
"I was wondering how long it would take you to jump to that conclusion. The next bit seems to follow on from the last, so go on to 7:17." Jack was busy copying the words onto his fresh piece of paper.  
  
"For the Lamb in the midst of their throne will be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of living water," Annamaria read haltingly. "And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes."  
  
"That's a little more abstract. And so's the last clue, because unschooled though I may be, I have already looked up the Book of Peter and found no chapter eighteen. So I admit it: Captain Jack Sparrow is stumped."  
  
"Well, obviously there's three islands -" Annamaria began.  
  
"Obviously, builded on I Peter 18." Jack said with a grin.  
  
"And Peter is the rock, so they're rocky islands," she finished. "I don't know about the eighteen."  
  
"Why is Peter a rock?" Jack asked. "I feel as if this is something the Reverend Walters should be aware of."  
  
"I..." Annamaria wasn't really sure if she knew exactly why Peter was a rock, but it was highly unlikely she would let this on to Jack. "I think it's because he built a house out of stone and rock for Jesus, and that's where the term bedrock comes from too. Because he had a bed made out of rock."  
  
"Sounds uncomfortable," Jack replied, seeming to accept her explanation. "Do you want me to read this back? What we've got?"  
  
As Annamaria nodded her head Jack started to read back what he had written.  
  
"Yonder is the sea, great and wide, which teems with things innumerable, cargo of gold, silver, jewels and pearls. But he who had received the one talent went and dug in the ground and hid his master's money, hid in the caves and among the rocks of the mountains. For the Lamb in the midst of their throne will be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of living water; and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes." He paused. "And we think this is in a group of three rocky islands which have something to do with the number 18."  
  
"We've barely scratched the surface," Annamaria said ruefully.   
  
"We've done more than that," Jack said as he tucked the fresh paper away with the book and the old parchment. "We also know that Daniel knows a lot more about this than he has let on - what was all that mumbo about a curse? Men will invite death but death will not come...I think there's a lot more to be found out from our new friend Daniel."  
  
"Are we going to look for the treasure then?"  
  
"Annamaria, it's what you already do - thieving - but on a larger scale," Jack said brightly, then softer: "We'll make a pirate out of you yet."  
  
Just then a scraping came from the door as an obviously surprised crewman tried to open the door but found it blocked. Not wishing the trunk to be any more of an impediment, Jack got up and whipped it out of the path of the door at the exact time that the sailor decided to fling his entire weight against the supposedly sticking door. The unfortunate man sprawled on the floor as Jack magnanimously extended a hand to lift him up.  
  
"I was just sent," the crewman said with a flustered manner, "to call you to lunch."  
  
Annamaria and Jack looked at each other, and then at the crewman. They had ignored the protestations of their hungry bellies in the excitement of the code breaking, and at this moment had each suddenly realised just how hungry they were.  
  
"Lead us to it!" 


	11. Rosie's no longer a nun!

AN: Well, this is the longest chapter yet! So much for not having enough time to write enough...I decided to take a day off study (well, not entirely, I did do some maths) and here's the result. Reviews are always loved. Wish me luck for my Specialist Maths exam Monday! Death to vectors!! BTW, the code is real. Get your Bibles out & check it. :)  
  
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"I think you've hurt his feelings, Jack," Annamaria whispered.  
  
It was true: the crewman leading them to the meal did seem a little aloof, stalking along in front of them with nary a look behind to check if they were still following.  
  
"Funny," Jack muttered.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Usually my dazzling personality gets everyone first time," he continued with a nudge and a drawl. "You fell in love with me at first sight, right darlin'?"  
  
"Don't flatter yourself, Jack," Annamaria said crossly. "And if I'm to look the least bit in love with you, we might do better without you elbowing me in the ribs."  
  
Jack looked quickly at her. "I'm sorry, luv, didn't think."  
  
"Anyway, you fell in love with MY dowry," Annamaria said. "The rum I brought with me. D'you reckon there'll be anything to drink at lunch?"  
  
"If there isn't, we'll have to look a little harder in that trunk for Reverend Walters' communion wine afterwards."  
  
They followed the crewman down to the passage that ran along the length of the ship; their cabin being toward the bow while the captain's the largest, in the stern. This way they avoided disturbing the crew who worked overhead, stowing the cargo and ropes that had been of use in Port Royale. Jack ran his hand along the hull. He could see that the 'Adversary', while by no means the least well maintained ship to sail out of Port Royale, had managed to spring a few minor leaks. The wood was damp under his palm. His mind raced ahead, trying to see a way towards sailing the ship with a crew of three into Tortuga. It was possible that some of the crew might defect and join him - it was probable that he didn't want any sailors on his crew that were that fickle. He was jolted out of his reverie by a very familiar voice in front of them, hailing the sailor that was acting as their guide.  
  
"'ERE! Stop a moment, Hobbes!"  
  
Hobbes halted in front of them. While there was no change in Jack's outwardly cool demeanour, he was thinking furiously. He stepped forward smartly. "I see you remember me, Mr Gibbs. What a surprise it is to meet you here! I'm sure Mrs Walters," at this Jack winked vigorously, "remembers you too, am I right Philly?"  
  
Annamaria picked up on his cue much more quickly than Gibbs did. "Oh yes," she exclaimed happily, turning to Jack. "You provided some spiritual guidance, did you not, Reverend?"  
  
Jack winked (thankfully out of sight of the puzzled Hobbes) several more times until an enlightened Gibbs finally got the idea. He doffed his hat. "Reveren' Walters, thanks to you me daughter is no longer a nun!"  
  
Jack choked. Gibbs certainly had chosen his words well, but unfortunately for his (married) daughter, there was an element of truth in them, which he knew nothing about - to Jack's relief. Bubbles of laughter threatened to overwhelm Jack, and he stood, quivering. Why did some things seem intensely funny at the wrong times?  
  
"He seems to have you pegged," Annamaria whispered, and took over, smiling sweetly at Hobbes, who stood looking from one person to another in bewilderment. "What our old friend Mr Gibbs means is that my husband performed his daughter's marriage service. Just an old joke between friends."  
  
While Annamaria was speaking, Gibbs pointed at her and mouthed, "Who's that?"  
  
"Tell you later," Jack mouthed back, but shut his mouth with a clap as Hobbes turned again. He settled for a nod in Gibbs' direction, and followed meekly as the crewman led them off once more. Annamaria, following, had one last idea.   
  
"Mr Gibbs! Our manservant Matthews is somewhere on board," she called. "You might like to catch up with him for all the news."  
  
Jack nodded to himself. Daniel could fill Gibbs in on as much as he knew. Jack had known Gibbs since before the mutiny - he found himself measuring time that way, these days - and he knew his curiosity was insatiable.  
  
Hobbes turned to address them. "We're going to be late for luncheon now."  
  
Jack waved an arm toward him. "Never fear, it was our fault. You won't get in trouble."  
  
When they were all seated around the long table in the captain's rooms, being served with piping hot stew straight from the galley, it was all Jack and Annamaria could do to avoid falling upon their plates like savages.   
  
"Outside cutlery first," Jack hissed.  
  
Annamaria rolled her eyes. "I was brought up in an orphanage Jack, I know the rules."  
  
They each daintily picked up their fork, and then set them down hurriedly as they realised that Captain Hakes and several other officers of the ship were staring at their plates. Oldbourn tilted his head and met Jack's questioning eyes with a pointed stare. Behind his cruel eyes, Jack thought he could detect a hint of mockery. What had they done wrong now? Jack was impatient to eat, but his question was answered by Captain Hakes clearing his throat.  
  
"Hem! I think grace is in order? Reverend Walters, as a minister of religion, could you do the honours?"  
  
Now it was Jack's turn to raise his eyes to the ceiling. Oh, for the love of Jesus... how did a grace go? At least all the men in the room had their eyes shut. In reality, only about fifteen seconds had passed as Jack tried frantically to dredge through his memory. Annamaria decided that the time had come to step in and prompt him. Peeking out through her eyelashes to check that all eyes in the room were closed, she muttered so quietly that Jack had to concentrate to hear her, "For what we are about to receive..."  
  
"For what we are about to receive," Jack said in a thankful rush.  
  
"We are truly grateful -"  
  
"We are truly grateful," Jack continued, "Lord."  
  
Annamaria was surprised when he continued. Chalk it up to Jack being inspired, she thought...  
  
"Lord, bless this boat - ship - and keep it safe on the waters and out of the hands of pirates. And -"  
  
The captain looked up. "Thank you Reverend, we do know that you could go on all day, but I think it's time to eat, don't you? Now tuck in, everybody."  
  
Silence reigned in the room for a few minutes as everyone ate. Presently Oldbourn spoke.  
  
"Have you had many run-ins with pirates, Reverend Walters?" he said with a sneer.  
  
What's it to you, Jack thought, but answered meekly. "Thanks be to the Lord, I haven't had the pleasure..." he paused, then went on. "Has the 'Adversary met many unfriendly ships in these waters?"  
  
"Just a couple," Captain Hakes said pleasantly. "We managed to sink one of them before they nobbled us, but the other...as you may have noticed, our ship isn't really built for ferrying passengers. We're a cargo ship by trade, and luckily we were sailing in a convoy. It was a couple of months ago." The captain hesitated a fraction, and then went on. "The damned buggers - excuse my French, Mistress Walters - boarded my good friend's ship and slaughtered the lot. We managed to get away...they weren't as interested in us."  
  
"And the name of the ship?" Jack asked, interested.  
  
"It was the 'Black Pearl'."  
  
Jack sat a little straighter in his chair. "I thought she was a myth," he said carefully.  
  
Captain Hakes shook his head. "I did too, until that day."  
  
After the plates had been cleared, Jack and Annamaria were free to leave. They went immediately back to their cabin, where they found Daniel and Gibbs waiting for them. Jack had barely said a word on the way back to the cabin, just rolling with the sway of the ship as though it barely touched him. Annamaria hadn't found her sea legs yet - she had trouble balancing and several times had to lean on the walls to regain her footing. It didn't help that she couldn't use both arms to walk.   
  
When they got into the cabin Jack nodded to both Gibbs and Daniel and went straight over to the chair he had sat in before. Annamaria paused in the doorway before Gibbs patted the bed next to him. The cabin was extremely cramped with the four of them in it.  
  
From his position on the floor, Daniel spoke up. "How was your lunch?"  
  
Seeing that Jack wasn't troubling himself to reply, Annamaria answered him. "Fine, thanks. Did you get something to eat?"  
  
"I saw to that," Gibbs said comfortably. "He ate wi' me, down in the crew's quarters."  
  
Over at the desk, Jack spoke finally. "You two haven't been introduced. Mr Gibbs, this is Annamaria. I met her in gaol at Port Royale and we broke out together. Annamaria, this is Mr Gibbs. He's known me since I was captain of the 'Pearl', and probably before that as well, am I right?"  
  
"You were captain of the 'Black Pearl'?" Annamaria said, shocked.   
  
"Until it was wrenched from my hands by my first mate, yes."  
  
"A couple of years ago now it were, right Jack?" Gibbs said. "Barbossa forced 'im off the ship, turned the crew agin 'im, cast 'im off on an island somewhere in the Caribbean."  
  
Daniel spoke up. "How did you get off the island?"   
  
Gibbs opened his mouth to reply, but Jack cut him off smoothly. "Now is not the time or the place for that story, mate. What are you doing here on the 'Adversary' anyway? Last time I saw you, you were nearly comatose under a table in Tortuga's finest tavern."  
  
"And last time I saw you, you weren't all dressed up as a minister of the bloody church! Jack, you may 'ave forgotten, but I earn me living the respectable way."  
  
Jack and Gibbs both chuckled at shared memories. "Do you, now?"  
  
"Let's just say that I may have had to leave my 'ome in a hurry, owing to the wife going through her change of life. Leastways, she's been right angry lately, so I think to meself: a spot of extra money wouldn't go astray, and land meself a job on this ship."  
  
"How's Rosie? Marriage working out for her, then?" Jack asked idly.  
  
"Oh, yeah, Jack - they've got their own farm now an' everything. Proper nice it is."  
  
"Pity," Jack mumbled. Then he turned to Daniel. "S'your turn now, mate. I'm going to ask you a few questions, and I want honest replies, savvy?"  
  
Daniel nodded. "I understand."  
  
"The code, cipher, whatever you want to call it: where did you get it if you didn't write it? Isn't it pretty useless to you if you can't read?"  
  
It took Daniel a little while to answer as he considered his words. "The treasure that the code has directions to...it is part of my heritage. It has been a task for my family for generations: guard what little treasure that remains of the Aztecs, that the Spanish did not sail away with, from malignant people."  
  
"You don't look very Aztec," Jack said pointedly, gesturing at his abnormally fair hair and skin.   
  
"I won't deny that the Aztec has been diluted in our family, by intermarrying with other races," Daniel said with fire in his eyes. "But the blood that flows in my veins is the same that flowed in my ancestors', in Tenochtitlan. We were given instructions to watch over the treasure generations ago."  
  
The cabin had become very silent as the three people hung on Daniel's every word. When it didn't appear as though he was going to continue, Annamaria spoke.  
  
"Seems to me," she said slowly, "that you haven't been watching over it very closely if you don't even know where it is."  
  
"It's taken me a long time, asking everyone, to find out this much." Daniel said jerkily. "I wasn't old enough to be told by my parents. And then when they were murdered...it was about a year or two ago now. Probably," he raised his head to look at Jack, "at about the same time you were marooned on your island. In our family..." he trailed off.  
  
Annamaria slipped off the bed and went to sit next to Daniel on the floor as he faltered. She wrapped her good arm around his thin shoulders as Jack and Gibbs looked at each other. As she whispered into Daniel's ear so that only he could hear her, he raised his head, infused by new strength.  
  
"I'm sorry," he said simply. "This is the first time I've told my story to anyone...anyway, in our family we weren't told of our heritage until we turned twenty-one."  
  
Jack leaned forward. "When we read the parchment to you, you mentioned a curse, and that HE didn't tell you that. Who?"  
  
"The priest that I spoke to." Daniel replied.  
  
Jack groaned, and the other three looked at him, astonished. He looked around, gesturing his hands for emphasis. "It would be a priest, wouldn't it? Religion is takin' over my bloody life!" 


	12. A Plan for the Pearl

AN: I really, really hope I'll be able to update soon...but...  
  
It's SCHOOLIES WEEK!!! I'm going away, and won't probably be back till the 2nd of December - then I've got to go to work - but I'm so sorry about leaving the story, and I will update if I get a chance. But there's no computer at the beach! Yay!  
  
It strikes me that other countries might not do schoolies week. Um, how to describe it? A blur of alcohol and the beach? It's an Aussie tradition that the week after exams finish, Yr 12 students round the country go away to the beach and piss off people who they'll never see again. Doing blockies etc. When I come back, I'll probably have a hangover (I've got one now actually; I started partying early :) )  
  
bDodge-This/b You're so right! I've corrected it to Isla de Muerta.  
  
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The cabin was silent after Jack's outburst. The unnaturally solemn atmosphere created by Daniel recounting his story was first broken by Gibbs' guffaws. His chortling was so infectious that Jack and Annamaria had to join in. It was pretty funny, when you looked at the way Jack's day had panned out. Then Gibbs pushed himself up off the bed and stood by the door.  
  
"I'd better be off then," he said between chuckles. "I'd love to stay and hear the rest of the story, but some of us still 'ave wages to be earnin', Reverend...It's good to see you smile, Daniel. Was beginning to wonder whether yeh could!"  
  
He twisted the doorknob and pulled the door towards him, revealing Oldbourn with one hand about to rap on the door.   
  
"Oh!" Gibbs said, "Didn't see yeh there, sir!"  
  
Oldbourn looked down his nose. "I'm sure you didn't. And don't you have duties you should be attending to, Mr Gibbs?"  
  
"Right on me way, sir. I was just catchin' up with Reverend 'ere, as...as..." Gibbs paused, clearly racking his brain as to his cover story. "'E baptised me daughter back in the day."  
  
"Really? I have also heard that he performed your daughter's marriage service."  
  
"Ah, yes, that's right sir, he's 'elped our family out considerable."   
  
"Well, the time for catching up has ended, Mr Gibbs. You're wanted on deck."  
  
Oldbourn swept his eyes over the other occupants of the cabin as if he hadn't realised they were there. His eyes lingered longest on Daniel, sitting with his back against the wall with Annamaria next to him. Annamaria could have sworn she saw a faint glimmer of shock in Oldbourn's eyes that was answered by the stiffening of the lad next to her. She tensed in turn as his gaze turned to her, and to her hand still resting on Daniel's shoulder. It felt as though Oldbourn had come to a decision as he inclined his head in a kind of mocking nod.   
  
"Sorry to disturb you...Reverend." With that, Oldbourn closed the door with a bang.  
  
Annamaria opened her mouth to speak but Jack waved at her with a frown. He sprang up from the chair he had been sitting in and tiptoed over to the door, almost catlike. Suddenly he dropped to his knees and looked through the keyhole. Then he strolled back over to the desk, and scraped his chair with a bang as he sat down.   
  
"He's not there," Jack said, looking over at the other two. "Still, I don't know how long he was there previously, or how much of our discussion he managed to overhear."  
  
"I don't like that lock on the door," Annamaria said, then: "Oldbourn doesn't like us very much, does he?"  
  
"To be fair, luv, you were going to claw his eyes out this morning," Jack said, "and I'm not saying he didn't deserve it. But I agree with you. There's something...I'd wager he knows that I'm not a priest, for one."  
  
"That's not hard," Annamaria scoffed, but at the same instant Daniel came out of his reverie and spoke for the first time since Oldbourn had raked the cabin with his eyes.  
  
"You didn't tell me that man was on board," he said urgently.   
  
Jack looked at him quickly. "You didn't ask."  
  
"Oldbourn is the name he's going by these days, is it?" Daniel's voice was grim. "I recognised him, and he saw that I recognised him. That man is the man who murdered my parents."  
  
"I thought he knew you," Annamaria said gently. "It was his eyes..."  
  
"Forgive the personal question that I have to ask," Jack said. "How did you escape, if he knew that you see him do it?"  
  
"When they came to our village it was night-time, and I wasn't at home." Daniel said, his eyes averted as if watching the scene again. "My parents had sent me up the mountain to deliver food to a hermit who lived on the mountain. He's the priest who gave me that parchment which you have. My parents trusted him; I probably delivered it to him that night."  
  
Jack made as if to speak but Daniel held up a hand. "Coming down the cliff path, I saw...I saw a flash out to sea, but I didn't think - how could I? - that there was a ship out there. I saw a huge glow and smoke rising from down the valley, from the village, and ran. I ran and ran but I was up among the rocks and it took too long...I got there too late. Too late to save my parents, but in time to see my burning house and the walls folding in on them, and the man standing in front and laughing. Back then, he called himself Sawyer, but it's the same man. Oldbourn."  
  
"Are you sure?" Annamaria said.  
  
Daniel said simply, "His face is seared in my memory, along with the screams of my village. Of course I'm sure. The whole village was slaughtered that night, and I was powerless to do anything. Anyway, he recognised me."  
  
Jack leant forward. "If that be the case, why did he let you live?"  
  
"I ran at him, and he threw me off as if I were a toddler. I tried but I couldn't fight him, he was too strong. He stunned me with a blow to the head and threw me into one of the burning buildings. I nearly died that night - I expect he thought I did - but the heat and noise woke me. I crawled through the smoke and ash and climbed out a back window. Father Larouche - he's the hermit I told you about - he came down off the mountain the next morning and found me halfway up the cliff path, unconscious. He nursed me back to health."  
  
Jack pulled the leather book out of his cassock. "When did he tell you about this?"  
  
"Only about a week or two ago. I'd heard fragments, of course, over the years. I knew about my heritage of course, one of the last of the original Aztecs...but my parents didn't ever tell me about the treasure. Till I was in a bar frequented by pirates and one pirate, a tall skinny man with a wooden eye, tried to pay for his grog with a golden coin with a skull on it. That's where I heard about some of the treasure, but that's not the main place where the Aztecs hid their treasure. I went back to Father Larouche and he told me as much as he knew and gave me the book."  
  
"Ragetti..." Jack exhaled slowly, clasping his hands on his head. "I may have heard about this treasure too. Was he with a squat man with no neck and a face like a gorilla's arse?"  
  
Annamaria snorted. "Jack! Nobody's that ugly!"  
  
Daniel smiled at her. "It's a fair call. Yes, he was with that man. I heard him call No-Neck something that sounded like Lintel? Wintel?"  
  
"Pintel. And if Pintel and Ragetti were there, Barbossa wouldn't have been far away. Where was this bar?" Jack demanded.  
  
"Have you heard of Port Maria? It's about a week's voyage from Port Royale. I would have been there about nine days ago."  
  
"And this ship is carrying us further and further away from Port Royale," Jack said bitterly. "This treasure has brought tragedy to many people, Daniel. Have you heard of the Isla de Muerta?"  
  
"I have heard murmurings but only in the last couple of days...it's said, isn't it, that it cannot be found unless you have been there before?"  
  
"There is another way it can be found, however," Jack said. Annamaria had known of the island, but dismissed it as an old wives tale. Now her eyes widened as the two men in front of her discussed it as though it was real.   
  
"There is an old compass which I used to own that confused the hell out of Gibbs when I showed it to him," Jack said. " An old drunk in a tavern gave it to me. It doesn't point north, but guides you towards the Isla de Muerta, through the safest passage. We - the Black Pearl - were going to go to this island, get the treasure. Well, the Black Pearl ended up getting there, but minus its dashing Captain Jack Sparrow, who had unfortunately been trusting enough to let his first mate into the secret of the compass. Barbossa got the crew on his side, robbed me of the compass and left me on some island with this pistol and one bullet...I've heard that island is now their hideaway, where they take back all the gold, but I can't get there without the compass or a guide."  
  
He paused for effect. "I want us to catch the Black Pearl now, while it's out of the harbour. Barbossa must be getting in supplies from near Port Maria. We need to commandeer this ship."  
  
Annamaria looked incredulous. "Jack, I'm all for stealing big things, but how do you expect the three of us to sail this ship and capture your Black Pearl?"  
  
"Four," Jack said. "You're forgetting Gibbs."  
  
"I'll help you, Jack, but I don't know anything about sailing."  
  
"I'll teach you," he said with a grin. "And you, Daniel?"  
  
Daniel stood and walked over to Jack. "I will help you get your ship back, but not to plunder the treasure of my people. I will guard that with my life, like my parents did."  
  
"We both have a score to settle with Barbossa and his crew, then. And we've got to turn this ship around within the next couple of days, or it will be too late."  
  
"Go and start making friends with the crew," Annamaria said with a grin to Daniel. "It'd be nice if we could get some more hands on our side."  
  
"Will do." Daniel walked to the door.  
  
"Good man - tell Gibbs to sound a few of the men out about the captain. And for the love of God, avoid Oldbourn, Daniel. Don't go picking any fights with him until the opportune moment."  
  
Daniel's face momentarily darkened at the mention of Oldbourn's name, then he nodded and opened the door. "The opportune moment."  
  
"Well, we're going to take a turn about deck," Annamaria said. "We'll see you later."  
  
As Daniel left Jack turned to Annamaria. "We're going to walk around on deck, are we? Sounds fun, but I can think of better ways to pass the time, luv."  
  
Annamaria glared at Jack. It was a look that invited no gainsaying. "I have been locked up in a cramped little room for the greater part of the last twenty-four hours, Jack Sparrow, and the other time was spent in accumulating injuries all over my body. I want fresh air..." she spelled it out with his favourite word. "...Savvy?"  
  
"Yes, the sea you shall have!" Jack held his arm out to her and she took it reluctantly. He put his other hand up to his head. "My wig's on all right, isn't it luv? Right! Let's go and look at the ocean."  
  
Review! 


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